


Unreliable

by Karios



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake Marriage, RMS Titanic, That Kiss, original timeline, the journal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 21:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: “This ship is going to sink!”“I may not be a historian, but I'm pretty sure everyone knows what happened to the Titanic,”  replied Flynn.“We have four days. Four days left to live. How the hell can you be so calm?” Lucy looked ready to hyperventilate, and she wouldn't look at him.This is how they spend those four days.





	Unreliable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingsalome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/gifts).



> Thanks to my beta, salazarastark!

Only Lucy could have talked Flynn into something as stupid as coming aboard the _Titanic_. Rittenhouse had gone there as part of a new round up of sleeper agents. Together, he and Lucy were to get in on April 11th, identify the most likely target (or targets), and put a bullet in them. They were not, under any circumstances, to get on the ship.

So of course everything went wrong, and they ended up on the ship.

Lucy barely managed to keep it together as the _Titanic_  pulled away from port, dragging Flynn back to their cabin by the elbow, moving as quickly as her long skirt could allow. Once the door shut behind them, she allowed the mask to slip.

“Please, tell me you have a plan.”

“I...no.” He shook his head. “We're as stranded as we look.”

“This ship is going to sink!”

“I may not be a historian, but I'm pretty sure everyone knows what happened to the _Titanic_ ,”  replied Flynn.

“We have four days. Four days left to live. How the hell can you be so calm?” Lucy looked ready to hyperventilate, and she wouldn't look at him.

He cupped a hand under her chin, tipping her gaze to meet his eyes. “Lucy, look at me. We’ve sent the Lifeboat back. Hopefully someone back there will realize what we've done and come for us.”

“And if they don't?”

His hand released her jaw, one of his thumbs trailing over her cheek. “Then I have four days here with you...eating the finest food 1912 has to offer, dancing to beautiful music, kicking your ass at chess.”

Lucy let out a small burble of near hysterical laughter.

“There are many worse ways to die,” he murmured, taking a half step back. She had seen enough death in these trips to know he wasn't wrong. She stepped forward, her arms out and pulled him into her embrace.

When she let him go, he chuckled. “If I knew this was what it took to get a Lucy Preston hug, I'd have brought the Mothership here ages ago.”

Lucy swatted him. “You’ve ruined the moment.”

He grinned. “Habit of mine. Let's get some champagne.”

Lucy frowned. “What are we celebrating?”

“You couldn't have given me the journal if we both died here, for one.”

For a deathtrap, the _Titanic_ really was beautiful. Weaving around ornate furniture, drinking out of crystal stemware, and admiring museum-quality art served as decent distractions in those early hours. Lucy still wasn't as sure as Flynn that their rescue was preordained, but by the first nightfall, gazing up at a blanket of brilliant stars, she was determined to let go of both the past and the future, and try to enjoy herself.

It proved easier than she imagined.

By the next mid-morning, she was whirling around on a gleaming dance floor in Flynn’s arms as though they belonged here more than a century in the past. In the middle of a dance, it was easy to feel like the world didn’t extend past the two of them and this song. Did he know how soothing it would be? Had he always been able to ballroom dance?

“Lucy, if your mind keeps wandering like that, you’re going to knock down everyone like dominoes.” He moved her back into step, a chuckle in the words.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just didn’t know you could dance like this.”

“You wound me with all of this disbelief.” He put on a mock pout. “I wouldn’t have asked you to dance to make a fool out of you.” After another twirl, he added, “Not that I could if I wanted to.”

“Finally you get something right. Seriously, though. Where’d you learn this?”

His grin was positively devilish as he answered, “Hand-to-hand combat and formal dance require a very similar skillset.”

“I know that you’re right, but the way you say it makes it seem like you’re lying.”

He bent down to whisper into her ear. “I could attack you, and prove it.”

 _Since when did his threats sound so damn suggestive?_ Lucy thought as she was saved from forming a reply by the last notes of the song playing.

Flynn gave Lucy a theatrical half bow, and then offered her his arm. “Accompany me to lunch?”

Joining the other passengers that were also making their way to the dining rooms, it really did feel like they were just another couple among many. Lucy soaked up the chatter around them as they found their seats at a dining table.

They were seated across from a younger married couple from Britain travelling with their only child. The man thankfully addressed Flynn, and Lucy was relieved not to be forced to make conversation yet. The more experienced Lucy had with time travel, she found that meeting people from the past was getting more heartbreaking, not less. “I’m John Davies. This is my wife, Mary, and our son, John Jr.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Flynn beamed beside her. “I’m Garcia Flynn and this is my wife, Lucy.” Lucy covered the awkward face she almost certainly had made by swallowing a mouthful of soup. They’d agreed to pose as married back at the bunker, but they hadn’t chosen names. Nothing prepared her for how real it felt to be introduced like that, or the bolt of pleasant warmth that suddenly shot straight through to her core.

“A pleasure indeed,” John said. “Good soup,” he added, in an obvious effort to include Lucy.

She glanced up and nodded. “Yes, it is. Some of the best I’ve ever had.” The warm rich broth really was delicious.

“What brings you aboard the _Titanic_?” Flynn asked as Lucy reached for her wine glass.

“Nothing all that exciting, just handling some business in America, but we still wanted to enjoy the passage in luxury,” John chuckled. “What about you?”

“On our honeymoon,” Flynn replied and Lucy choked on her wine. That was definitely not in the plan. Lucy turned to Flynn, forcing a brighter smile, and extra sugar into her tone.

“My dear Garcia does love to surprise me so, but he has certainly outdone himself with this one,” Lucy said, adding a tittering laugh for effect.

Flynn slid an arm around her waist. “Only the best for you, my love.”

“Oh, John,” Mary spoke up for the first time. “It’s so romantic.”

Lunch was followed by a game of ring toss with their new acquaintances, and then Lucy excused them with a statement about wanting to rest before dinner. From the knowing look Mary shot Lucy, Lucy guessed Mary suspected they would do anything but rest.

Lucy didn’t know whether to be flattered or mortified by near strangers opinions on her fictional sex life. She did know she was angry at Flynn and whirled on him the minute they reached the relative privacy of their cabin. “What the hell was that?”

“Was what?” Flynn asked. “If you’re mad about using our own names...in what, two days and six hours or so, that family will either be dead or have lived through the most harrowing experience of their lives. The Davies aren’t going to remember us. No matter how charming we are.”

“I was referring to our unilaterally decided honeymoon!” Lucy yelled as she made a face.

“Look around Lucy, there’s no mission here anymore. We’re playing newlyweds on the voyage of our lives. It was the obvious play.”

Something about it being described so tactically knocked the wind out of her sails. “Is that all?”

Flynn shrugged. “If you want it to be.” He breezed past her. “I’ll see you at dinner; I need some air.”

The next day, Flynn insisted that they rise early and spend the day by the pool. Still on edge from their argument the day before, Lucy brought a book, determined to ignore him. As such, it took her hours to realize why they were even here. He was teaching a handful of children how to swim.

She peeked at him over her book, snatching glimpses of the father he must have been, as he held a small boy's hand to steady him in the water or cheered a girl on as she flailed her way to the opposite edge. Lucy's heart ached for him as much as the people around them.

Flynn hauled himself back out of the pool around midday; he stood before Lucy and dripped into the tile until she looked up at him. “I know, it's pointless. The waves will be so much rougher than a swimming pool and they'll only be strong enough to tread water for a few minutes at best. I just - I had to try. To do _something_.”

“It's not pointless,” she whispered, standing up to pull him close. “It's wonderful.”

This? This was the man she'd suspected he was, the Flynn she'd fling herself in front of a gun to save.

The rest of their time passed both too slowly and too quickly at once. They ate incredible roast chicken, and savored ice cream that had never been sweeter. Lucy lost several games of chess, as predicted. They danced until the world fell away again and this time when they retired to their cabin, it was unmistakably charged.

“So, two hours to iceberg,” Flynn whispered. Their room seemed impossibly dark. Their bed impeccably soft.

The words hung in the air.

“Still think they're coming for us?” Lucy asked.

Flynn nodded. “And if not, then at least Rittenhouse is someone else's problem.”

Lucy laughed, and Flynn joined in. “That's a terrible silver lining,” Lucy protested.

“It wouldn't be so bad would it? We might see our families again. Get to rest.”

“Don't," she said sharply, her hand finding his. She ran a thumb over his fingers. "Don't talk like that.”

“Then distract me?” he asked. He sounded so sad that she would have given him anything.

“How?” Lucy leaned forward, until their foreheads were nearly touching. She could feel Flynn’s words when he spoke again.

“I had one idea in mind.”

His mouth met hers, sweet and tentative at first. Then, Lucy kissed him back.

When they broke apart, Flynn couldn't help but say, “You know, if the journal’s right, then you should stop me now. We-”

“Flynn, stop. As you like to remind me, the journal’s been wrong before. It's the very thing we’ve been arguing about.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Then,” Lucy snuggled closer, drawing him close for another kiss. “Let’s be unreliable.”


End file.
